Cries of an angel
by virus-of-blossoms
Summary: Arthur and Francis are only classmates and they SHOULD stay as such. But what happens when Arthur's abusive brothers become too much to bear and Francis offers to let Arthur stay in his house? Can Arthur find salvation in the form of a French boy? FRxUK.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur gazed out of the window at the heavy rain and the slight fog that lingered in the sky. He sometimes wondered if the weather was a reflection of his despicable life. Something else he had to endure day upon day. Another wound added to the many that adorned his relatively small body. Not that he would _ever_ admit that he was vertically challenged in any way. He sighed. Why did the sky have to be so...so... goddamn gloomy when he needed to feel the sun rays on his skin? What did he need to do to make the clouds disappear? And not only from heavens but from his own---_Let's not go there._ He needed light in his dark life, he wanted that little sliver of hope. He would cherish it forever-even kill to have it for just a few minutes._ Hah, kill._

Arthur sighed heavily, no-longingly, at the sky. One last time for the time being. _This is how much I want you. You can't even fathom just how much I would sacrifice for you... what I would do to have you---_

"Kirkland!" Arthur was rescued from drowning in his sorrows by the stern teacher in the front and of course had to narrowly avoid being hit by the chalk that was aimed at his head. "Now, would be a good time to answer my question Kirkland." Arthur glared at his teacher behind his lashes. "The name of the 4th Roman Emperor is...?"

Arthur was now immensely pissed. _He molests me because of a question like THAT?! Even my oldest brother can ans---_

Arthur's mouth clamped down at mid speech as he saw the latecomers saunter into the classroom. The first one was an Albino boy, who winked at the Hungarian girl at the first row upon entering the class. The second arrival was a tanned Spaniard trying to talk to Mr Empire about their lateness and devising ways in which they could avoid an after-school detention. Lagging a few steps behind Gilbert and Antonio was the person who had rendered Arthur speechless.

Francis came into the classroom having been soaked in the rain outside. Yet, unlike Antonio and Gilbert he was not wearing his coat, instead it was draped over his muscular arm, serving as nothing more than a hindrance to the French guy. Arthur _tried_ his absolute total best not to stare at his "friend"'s body. He did his best not to notice how tight his wet shirt clung onto his torso like a second skin, rippling as Francis moved his ligaments or flexed his perfectly formed muscles. Arthur was in Hell. He could feel the Devil taunting him, the flames of the underworld crawling too close to his skin for comfort. There was simply no way he could take his eyes off the divine sight before him.

_I'm going to Hell anyway, so might as well make sure that pre-reserved seat in the thorns is well deserved._ Not being able to tear his gaze from the boy walking towards him, Arthur nearly let out a frustrated groan. Francis was letting his long, beautiful fingers toy with his hair, trying to locate the ribbon that kept his golden hair tied back. He finally found it, only to swiftly remove it from the depths of his wet hair and ruffle his blonde locks as he reached the desk Arthur was seated at. Offering a what could only be interpreted as a heavenly smile, Francis scraped his chair back. _Remind me of what my shameful life will make me miss out on, why don't you?_ Arthur attempted to viciously tear his eyes from the angel that was now sitting next to him. He just hoped he didn't look as lustful as he felt.

"Kirkland! For the last time, answer the goddamn question!"

Arthur only turned his head to glare at his sorry excuse of a teacher. "_Tiberius Claudius Drusus._" He pronounced each syllable as if he was talking to a little kid. "Sir, if you wanted to catch someone off guard, then I would suggest you at least do it justice by asking them a challenging question." He then proceeded onto rising to his feet and gathering his books from across the desk. His fingers brushing the French teen's wrist as he made an attempt to grab his pen. Arthur bit his lip, wondering if the moronic being before him also felt the electricity that passed between them through that brief touch. The bored expression on the other boy's features was all he needed to see to come to a negative conclusion. _Git._

As he walked behind Francis' desk towards the door that would grant him brief freedom he felt something hold him back. His eyes sharply snapped to his wrist, which was encased in an iron grip at that particular moment. "Leaving so soon are we, _mon amour_?" His slight accent and deep voice _nearly _elicited something that was suspiciously like a groan from the English boy. _Mon amour..._

"Go to Hell, Bonnefoy." Arthur spat, suddenly very afraid of meeting _those_ eyes and seeing _that_ face. _Come to the depths of Hell where I reside and pull me up from the despair I am in._

"_Avec plaisir _but only if you will accompany me there." He tightened his hold on Arthur but if it displeased the shorted male, he was very good at hiding it. "Maintenant, where do you think you are going to Kirkland?" He imitated the teacher to absolute perfection. "It is not yet the end of---"

"Let me go, _frog_." Francis scrunched his face up in mock hurt at Arthur's words but did not loosen his hold on the others' wrist. By which time the whole class had turned back to their textbooks, having witnessed Arthur and Francis' antiques enough times to be able to predetermine the end of their conversation.

Arthur was determined to hold his ground against the extremely alluring boy that was gazing openly at him. The English boy finally gave in to the part of him who wanted to see the expression Francis was making whilst studying him. As soon as their eyes met, Arthur felt his breath catch. It was very rare when one saw Francis make a face like that; so serious, so mesmerising... so... Arthur clenched his free hand, letting the nails dig in well below the surface, hoping that the pain would keep him rooted and refrain him from doing something he would regret later.

"One would think you were running away from me, Arthur." His name on Francis' lips felt at home, thought Arthur whilst suppressing a shudder that came deep within his body. _Have I called him an "angel"? No, he is the embodiment of temptation itself _and boy, wasn't it so easy to give right into the temptation that had taken the form of a French teen to haunt him.

"Wouldn't you think so, you selfish bastard? Everything has to turn around and be about you is it not?" Arthur found the oppressed anger within him. Anger that was not _meant_ for Francis. Anger that should under no circumstances should have been _directed_ at Francis. He was being unfair but this was the only way he could distance himself from the sex god that was Bonnefoy. However Arthur still couldn't help the act that as far as he was concerned _everysingledarnthing_ was about the "frog" before him. Not a single hour of the day passed without a thought concerning the French boy that he now wanted to beat the shit out of. _When have I become so attached to this person... so dependant on him to make me feel normal again? _"I am leaving because your ego and I cannot fit into a room this size without one exploding."

Francis slowly, almost hesitantly, let go of Arthur's now red wrist, laying his head on the desk, facing away from him. _Yeah, make me feel like shit. Make me feel small and low. You do that too Francis..._ Arthur needed to get out of the classroom before the moisture that resided in his eyes for the past few seconds could make their journey across his cheeks. It was truly amusing how a sole thought of a certain French boy could bring tears into his eyes but the numerous beating he received from his elder brothers didn't even make him blink...

Arthur didn't necessarily intend to, but still managed to shut the door with a loud bang. Once out of the actual building, out in the open, Arthur swung his bag securely over his shoulder and sprinted at full speed to the fence that surrounded the school. Before he begun climbing over it, he slowly tuned around to look at the direction of the classroom. Perhaps, if he was not crying as he had been he would have seen a pair of concerned blue eyes staring back at him from the window of the class he had just ran out of.

Arthur climbed the fence and wall mixture with ease, having done this many times in the past. He only paused for a few seconds when he was on the top, looking down at the floor 3 metres below him. He held out his arms, his bag still secure over his right shoulder and then let himself fall forward; a smile bordering on agony on his lips, newly formed tears in his eyes and a single thread of thought in his mind:

_Francis Bonnefoy, you will be the death of me._

* * *

Francis winced as he heard the door shut with a bang. _How am I so successful at making him angry all the time? _He willed himself to sit up straight but the best he could manage was resting his face in his hands, his back hunched and putting all his upper weight onto his elbows. He rubbed his forehead and eyes with his fingers, Trying to even out his breathing. _Only if he knew how much I was looking forward to see him..._ And he was. He had spent the whole night painting and thinking of the English boy. Thinking of those green eyes and the way they looked so sincerely at him. _Tu es dans toutes mes pensées. _

What was wrong with Arthur? Why did every time they were in each other's presence something had to ruin it? Francis cursed as he replayed the events of a few minutes ago. He wouldn't have been bold enough to hold Arthur back had not the male looked like that. That tortured look on his worn out face. And why was Francis afraid of looking into the shorter male's eyes anymore? _Because I am afraid of seeing too much in those eyes. Seeing the hurt, the pain and the hatred. _

Oh, what he wouldn't have done for the chance of kissing his worries away but knowing Arthur he would have ended up in a hospital before he got close enough to do anything to the shorter blond. _Vous êtes un lâche! _Then he remembered the way that electricity seemed to travel through his wet body at the mere brush of Arthur's fingers on his skin. And suddenly his wet shirt felt very uncomfortable as did his black school trousers. _Mon dieu! _

From the corner of his eye, Francis detected a movement on the usually deserted playground. Seeing Arthur's form moving in a very agile manner towards the fence he scooted down to the Englishman's seat, his eyes fixed upon the form of the boy that was trying to run to his freedom. He watched as Arthur looked straight at him from the playground. Watched with new found intensity as he climbed the fence with unnatural ease. Francis had to say, he was worried. It was high. He, himself didn't like heights but apparently now he found a new dislike for them as his beloved was standing upright on tope of the fence, his balance so perfect that he stood there for a few seconds, just looking down. Then he spread his arms out like an angel. _Mon ange... mon petit ange. _

Suddenly Francis woke up from the spell Arthur has put him in, realising what the English boy was going to do only seconds before he did it. Francis got to his feet so fast that his chair fell back with a huge thud as he stood up. His whole body was shaking. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin from head to toe, mixing with the slowly drying water on his clothes. _Arthur! _He didn't... couldn't, tear his eyes away from the short blond as he fell, no jumped but _fell_ to the ground. Francis didn't care that the whole class had turned in their seats to watch him, Arthur, _his _Arthur was going to fall face first onto the concrete floor. _Non!_

But as if a God unknown to him had heard his mental cries for help, Arthur flew to the ground, landing gracefully. Or was it that Arthur was really an angel and had stretched his wings in the last second to fly? Francis didn't care either way. Instead he slowly let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and sunk into his chair. His body was still shaking with the aftershock.

Then Francis became aware of two things simultaneously:

1. He had tears in his eyes.

2. He was going to be sick.

He ran towards the rubbish bin located near the door whilst his classmates observed him from their seats. He barely made it to the bin before he vomited the contents of his breakfast. After a minute of retching and constant vomiting, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around slightly to see Antonio offer him a pack of tissues. He accepted them gratefully, feeling dizzy as he wiped his hands and mouth.

"Antonio, take Francis to the infirmary and class, you all better settle down or I will whip your backsides until you die of blood loss." Even the teacher seemed to calm down after Elizaveta's threat. Everyone except one person that is.

"Ewww, Francis, that was so unawesome!" The albino jerk flustered on, turning to the green eyed girl, "Will you whip me now then, Elizaveta?" The Hungarian smiled kindly at the white haired boy whilst throwing a thick hardback book at him before returning to the sick French and the supporting Antonio.

"But like, seriously, that was totally uncool, class rep! Like eww..." Elizaveta only spent half a second to glare at the Polish boy who was now too busy flicking his hair.

"I advise anyone that wants to speak out against me to shut the hell up or I will hospitalise everyone of you." And as she spotted Gilbert about to speak she turned to him and whispered sweetly. "That goes for you too, szemétláda."

Francis was too busy trying to work out if the events with Arthur had actually happened to hear Elizaveta and Gilbert bickering as usual. He refused any help from Antonio and insisted that he would be able to make his way to the infirmary by himself but to no avail. Antonio still followed him even if from a safe distance. They had only taken 4 steps out of the classroom before everything became blurry and Francis lost his footing. The last thought he had before hitting his head on the cold linoleum floor was; _Je t'aime, Arthur._

_Je t'aime tellement._

_Je t'aime trop._

**A/N**

**Hi there. Glad you made it trough all that. :D **

**Now for some translations:**

_**FRENCH**_

**Mon amour --- My love**

**Avec plaisir --- With pleasure**

**Tu es dans toutes mes pensées. --- You are in all my thoughts.**

**Vous êtes un lâche! --- You are a coward!**

**Mon Dieu. --- My God.**

**Mon ange... mon petit ange. --- My angel... my little angel.**

**Non! --- No!**

**Je t'aime, Arthur. --- I love you, Arthur.**

**Je t'aime tellement. --- I love you so much.**

**Je t'aime trop. --- I love you too much.**

_**HUNGARIAN**_

**Szemétláda --- Scumbag**

**Okay excuse me for the crappy French and and the crappy Hungarian and do tell me if anything is wrong. **

Oh and to encourage reviews I am going to do this:

The first reviewer for each chapter will get something they'd like to see the next chapter. It can be anything! (Just not mindless sex - but if you still want sex then I will do one-shots connected to the story. :D or even in this story maybe) So yeah. Tell me what you thought of this chapter and then do a "Suggestion". I meant it when I said anything people. Like candy raining from the sky, and Arthur wearing nothing but socks... what rocks your boat. I like to challenge myself.

Oh and THERE WILL BE SMUT (Both Arthur and Francis are too hormonal for there to be none). This is rated M for a reason. Just bear with me for a few more chapters and you shall get UKxFRANCE.


	2. Chapter 2

**I lacked everything a good author has whilst writing a story when writing up this chapter. I forced my muse to the point that it has gone into early hibernation. Do not worry though. :D I know exactly how to wake him. (Just show him a naked Iggy.) But I have an even better beta reader. I thank thank thank KaiiDee23 because she is amazing, great, etc. AND I would like to also thank anyone who have read, reviewed, faved and subscribed to this.**

**And yeah (for those who were nice enough to think I did):**

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA (but I will totally own France... someday-like how Korea owns China's boobs (Was it China?)) FAIL x2.**

The motorbike's engine purred with life and energy beneath its rider. Its black polished surface reflected the light of the many passing streetlights. Beautiful was not the word to describe the machine. It was a creature right from hell. Emerging only deep at night, emerging only with a mission in mind.

Its rider was clad in leather from neck downwards, displaying every modelled curve in his perfect body to the outside world. His head was hidden beneath a carbon helmet, painted black to match his leather attire. His body sat in a crouched position, muscles flexing every now and then below the material. One could argue that the sight was very sensual, the rider just liked to think of himself as lethal. A stalker of the night. _One of many_, he was realistic after all... not arrogant enough to think that he was the only one. _No, not the only one, just the best one. _

As the bike wove intricate patterns through the 8 o'clock traffic of central London, not many of the late shoppers that happened to be in Piccadilly took notice of the rider. Not that it bothered the rider at all. He was _meant_ to be stealthy. Meant to be flashy but unnoticeable at the same time. Yet the mysterious rider did not want to be inconspicuous right now. He needed to feel just as alive as the machine that bore his weight, needed to feel the eyes of the people passing by on him. So he switched on the headlights even though his eyes needed no extra source of illumination. He tightened his grip over the handles and rode right past the red light, leaving a ruckus in his wake.

His willingness to attract attention slowly subdued as he begun travelling the suspicious narrow streets of London. Then as if he has asked his prey to be there waiting for him, he found them. The 3 people that were to be hunted. In a single fluid motion, the rider dismounted his faithful companion; his fingers remaining for a second too long on the shiny surface of the machine.

The assassin did not hesitate as he took out the gun with the silencer attached to its nozzle. Had anyone been watching him, they would have seen that his body seemed to have its own language, a language that was like water. Liquid, lethal, and fluid. He pulled the trigger with a gloved finger, feeling the coil resist against the muscle in his forefinger. He had been concentrating so hard on the mechanics of the gun that he had not seen the fourth person approach him, knocking the gun out of his hand.

The gunman was not pleased with the interference. His orders had been simple: find the man who was being rather difficult and then finish the job quietly and cleanly. He moved like an acrobat. Fisting his left hand into a fist while drawing a knife from his rider boots with his left hand, whilst looking around to make sure that the newcomer had not brought any other reinforcements. No, he had not been scared, simply curious. Then he was taken by surprise again as someone attacked him from behind.

_No, _his senses informed him that 2 people had attacked him from--- He gasped as he was rid of his helmet, His face was important to him. His face could not be damaged as a result of a night like this. _My face and my hands, main things that are visible the most in my everyday life._

The next series of events were fast and careless, done more out of panic than anything else. The lithe body of the rider swung the blade smoothly across the air. keeping the angle tilted so that when it finally pierced flesh he would be able to lunge forward without much hassle.

Two-seconds later only 4 of the original 5 people were standing. The 3 that had been conversing were now surrounding him. A smile pulled at the lips of the rider underneath his balaclava. _This is going to be interesting. _ He liked a challenge once in a while.

In a blurred vision of flying fists and roundhouse kicks, the rider found his body attacked in many different places with sharp objects. It wasn't everyday that he got a good fight so he was not about to go complaining. After all, if his victims fought then it would mean he would feel less guilt afterwards.

Just as he was about to about to kill one of them he felt an excruciating pain in his back as a blade made its journey from his right shoulder, across his back to his left hip. He turned around and unarmed the man who had been stupid enough to give him such a wound. _It's going to scar._ However his legs were knocked out from below him. Leaving him susceptible to the many kicks he received to his recently wounded back. As breath abandoned him for the billionth time that night, the rider knew if he was to live he needed to act fast.

Then he moved from the ground. With the agility of something that was feral. Inhumane. Like a lion. He attacked grabbing the forgotten blade from the floor. Cutting through flesh was always laborious. He felt his body weaken by the second from his efforts and the wounds on his back. The first man he took down was the weakest of the remaining four. He received a smooth cut to his neck. The second he had to step behind and attack from right behind his heart. Third had his neck broken in a suplex. It had been hard lifting the man up, considering his body was relatively smaller to that of man's but he had pulled it off with a strange mixture of savageness and utter elegance ending down on the ground himself. The fourth remained with the knife in his hand, still dripping with blood from the rider's back.

The rider swiftly dodged the knife thrown his way and grabbed the gun that had been waiting to be rescued from the ground all this time. With deadly aim he let the whistling bullet pierce the man's head. Precision was something he practised and did so well that his arm hardly felt the recoil from the gun.

Before he mounted his black bike again he took out a palmful of clovers and threw them on his last victims head, this had been a signature killing after-all. One conducted by the most effective predator of the night. He grabbed all the weapons and his helmet, not wanting to leave more DNA evidence than he had to. Dripping with both his victims' and his own blood, the lethal rider drove back home in silence.

* * *

Arthur woke up with a slight yelp. No, forget it, Arthur Kirkland did NOT yelp. The most he did was a gentlemanly grunt. Yeah, _a grunt_, certainly not a yelp. The dream had been bizarre. It was a nightmare, a-a _urgh!_

It started off with candy raining from the sky. Yes, _candy_ of all things that could have rained down. Frickin' hell, one must have gone through a life of hardship to be able to call it "rain". It was hailstones-rocks. For one thing the candy was still in their wrappers, and the lollipops hit him a few times in all sorts of ungodly places. Sensitive places like his biceps and---_ Why is everything, even my _own _dreams so hellbent on torturing me?_

Arthur got up from his bed and begun pacing his bedroom, not caring if he woke his brothers up with the creaking.

_And then_ there was that French _frog._ The quacking-_or whatever the sound those green things make_-idiot had lain him down after Arthur had moaned about the scarring candy that was raining and laid on top of him. _No, fucking-screw-it-ass-hole, _Arthur did NOT moan, he had complain-NO, he had merely commented on the weird direction the weather had taken---_who the fuck am I kidding?_ _But that does not matter now-the bastard _laid_ on top of _me. And not only did Francis lay down on _top_ of Arthur, he had proceeded to fondle some parts of his body that was best remained untouched under such circumstances.

_And then, and then, and then as if that was not bad enough, the French bastard put his... thing... inside of me. _Inside Arthur, pah! He would make the frog pay for this. Arthur would make sure he force-fed all of the letters in the word _grenouille _to Francis for making him go through that traumatic experience. For fuck's sake he, _Arthur Kirkland, _was supposed to be on top!

Arthur laid back down on his bed again, covering his eyes with his palms. _But it felt good, it felt right. It felt too good to have Francis so close to him _even though it was just a dream. The way his long fingers had danced on his skin was breath taking, the way his breath had tasted on his tongue was nothing short of delicious. Arthur felt his heart beat quicken. _Don't do this to me, please! _He begged his body, only to have his plea thrown aside as another image of Francis clouded his vision again.

It was Francis' eyes. Those cerulean orbs that bewitched him out of his mind. It should have been illegal for someone like Francis to be so attractive. And it was utterly unfair how out of his league the French boy was; he could have anyone he wanted. _Anyone_... He would never notice Arthur... Arthur the weak boy that always needed Francis' protection when growing up. Arthur the sick boy with the unnatural feelings towards his sole protector. _I hate you_. He whispered to himself. _I truly hate you._

What right did he have now, ten years into the future-still weak as ever, to ask Francis to hear out his feelings? _None._

_Stop torturing me Francis. I'm in enough pain without you adding to it. I'm a sinner you should not associate with. I hope we always stayed in the past. In those days when I cowered behind you. Only if I can turn the time back... _

"I hate the lot of you. One day I'll make you pay." He screamed at the sleeping habitants of the house before locking himself in his bathroom.

* * *

Arthur walked to school under the shimmering morning sun. The weather forecast had predicted long hours of sunshine for today and he had relied on it so much that he had left his omnipresent umbrella on his desk. He ran a hand through his short hair and felt the cold moisture still remaining there. He sighed, he wanted to get out of the house as soon as humanely possible; which had resulted in him half drying his dirty blond hair.

He stopped in his tracks as he saw the figure waiting by the gates, seated on the low wall. It was unusual for Francis to come to school at such an early hour so Arthur was quite suspicious of his strange behaviour. The taller blond seemed completely ticked off at something. What could have been concerning the carefree nudism-lover-French-boy this time? Against his better judgement, Arthur approached him.

* * *

Francis saw Arthur walking towards him, but then again; there wasn't many places he could walk towards. Francis had made sure of that. He even woke up _before_ the English blond to catch him walking to school. What he was planning to do was not very nice and he didn't want his classmates witnessing his darker side. He got up from the wall he was seated on and met Arthur halfway.

When he was close enough to see the object of his desire's face, Francis was in for a slight shock. He had been expecting annoyance in that obnoxious face... not _vulnérabilité_. He clenched his fists feeling more hatred towards himself than ever before. _Hah, me? Hating myself? Maybe only because even I am capable of loving someone else more than myself. _Either way, Francis knew he _had _ to do this, or he would regret it forever. _Then _why_ on earth am I shaking like a leaf?_

Digging his nails into his right fist to keep it from trembling, Francis punched the green eyed boy in the face. He felt the moment of contact on his knuckles. Felt Arthur's head move to the side upon impact. Saw the blood trickle from his nose in an orderly line. Francis nearly passed out from the sight of what _he_ had done to Arthur. He took in a sharp breath as he realised he was about to be sick again. He wanted to see Arthur's face, wanted to apologise, wanted to kiss his pain away, wanted to kill himself. Instead he settled for taking the unresponsive English male into his arms.

Francis pressed his shaking body to Arthur's, wrapping his arms around the other boy's shoulders. As his body slowly got rid of his initial shock he tightened his hold on the statue in his arms. Until it was so tight and close that they were only separated by the layers of cloth between them. Francis rested his head on Arthur's shoulder, breathing in the exquisite scent of the teen before him. Yet it was soon before breathing was _not_ enough. He wanted to taste Arthur.

* * *

Arthur did not know what to do. He was rooted to the spot. He couldn't breathe let alone make a sound. All he was sure of was the fact that his heart was pummelling into his ribcage. He wondered if Francis could feel it too. And for a very very brief moment Arthur was inclined to hold Francis back. But he didn't. He let his arms hover over Francis' shaking shoulders before lowering them to his sides again.

So many thoughts were journeying through his mind that he wondered how he wasn't bursting out right now. All his senses had been heightened. He had not been expecting the punch but had had enough time to dodge it. _Why didn't I, then?_ There were some many questions that were not answered... _What the fuck did I do to have Francis coming out this early in the day to punch me?_ Did he care? _Not really._ He just didn't want this moment to end. He wanted to kidnap the moment and stuff it into a glass bottle, to create his own perfect little genie.

_But I _need_ to know. I need to know how Francis came to have that ugly bruise on his forehead. I need to know why he is acting so... so goddamn devastated as if his world just came crashing down. _He wanted to kiss the taller guy, tell him everything would be alrigh----

"Don't ever scare me like that again." Francis' breath bounced off the skin on his neck. Suddenly, Arthur became only too aware of just _how_ close they were. Just how tight Francis' hold was on him. "_Ne m'effrayez pas comme cela._" The words felt so _good_ on his skin. Francis' accent feeling like cool water under the glaring sun. He smelled divide as far as the better side nose could smell... of roses with a slight hint of chocolate. This wa---

An involuntary shiver run up Arthur's spine as he felt Francis' tongue right against his pulse. The reality snapped into action and Arthur pushed Francis away. Not even glancing at the heap he left on the floor as he ran into the school. Not caring where he ended up. He rested himself against a wall, slowly sliding down it to rest on the floor. Arthur took his head in his arms. Not thinking of anything in particular as tears found their ways out of his eyes.

* * *

Ignoring the pain from his knuckle which was bound to bruise, Francis was on his knees as the first drops of rain reached him. He buried his face in his hands and although there were no tears to prove it, he felt his heart break as Arthur rejected him for the billionth time. And even though he couldn't see them, he felt the cries of his angel inside his mind.

As the rain got heavier he raised his head to look at the heavens... _so much for it being a sunny day._ And although he did smile, only a ghost of its previous glory remained on his face. Slowly he brought his knuckles down to his lips and kissed away the pain.

**A/N**

**Okay… so… I put in candies falling from the sky as it was requested. :P**

**Hope I didn't mess this chapter up as badly as I thought. **

**Oh and the first section? Yeah you all probably looked at it and went "WTF?" but I assure you it will make sense in the upcoming chapters… **

**Okay so because I am a review monster… etc. I have a new review thing… (thing??) Umm well. The first person to guess my favourite number "0-10" can have what they want in the next chapter. How about that?**

**And now for the translation (all French): (don't trust me, it may be wrong)**

**Grenouille --- frog**

**Vulnérabilité --- vulnerability **

**Ne m'effrayez pas comme cela. --- Don't scare me like that. **

**And the motorbike described at the beginning was a Yamaha R6 2007 model. **

**And for those who don't know what a suplex is:**

**----**The move consists of one wrestler picking up his or her opponent off the ground (or mat) and then using a large portion of his or her own body weight to drive the opponent down on the mat. Nearly all suplexes have the attacker going down to the mat with the opponent landing on his or her back.

**Taken from Wikipedia. **

**And to all that was bored to death with the intro of this chapter… Well it was necessary… I promise (otherwise there would be no plot).**

**OH and do tell me if you would like longer chapters... (even though they probably will kill me).**

**And yes, abusing the word "and" is a speciality of mine. Enjoy it. **


	3. Chapter 3

An hour later Arthur walked into his tutor room, his bloody nose taken care of. Somehow his eyes immediately found cerulean ones. He tried his best not to take notice of the way Francis was cradling his right hand after all the git deserved it for hitting him.

Francis happened to looked up to meet his eyes, as if having felt the green eyes boring into him. His face transformed into something that was dazzling and honest. _So he is going to pretend that it didn't happen..._ too bad Arthur already had a plan forming in his mind to get the French frog to apologise to him although he had already given up on the idea of finding out _why_ he had done something so reckless.

"_Mon petit ami Anglais,_ how very nice of you to join me!" Arthur glared at Francis. Maybe the French frog was bipolar?

"I wish I could say the feeling was mutual but I don't feel like lying."

Arthur winced as he heard a throaty chuckle coming from Francis, he could feel the layer of fakeness emanating from the other male. "_Oh là là, mon cher,_ let it all out. I'll be your _sac de poinçon. _I can be more too. Maybe I can be inside you?" Arthur jumped up from his seat as if he had _just_ realised that he was sitting on a seat of pins. "And make you moan my n--" A flashback from Arthur's dream hit him full on.

Crash! Clatter... bang and a few French profanities later, they had the full attention of their classmates and their form tutor. Arthur had pinned Francis under him, his hands gripping the pale throat not so gently. In effect, he had somehow ended up straddling the all-too-pleased French male.

Arthur leaned in until his lips nearly touched the other's ear and in the most threatening voice he could muster under, or rather - over, such circumstance; he whispered. "If anything were to happen between us _frog_, I would be on top."

A dark chuckle erupted from Francis' chest as he pulled Arthur down close to him second time that day. "Whatever rocks your _petit bateau, mon amour._" Francis proceeded onto biting Arthur's earlobe to which Arthur reacted with a few violent punches until they were rudely interrupted by their tutor.

* * *

"Boys, now, now, I would appreciate it if the two of you didn't make a scene this early in the morning---"

Elizaveta responded rather aggressively. "You two carry on!" she commanded to the extremely cute couple on the floor. "And you old _fattyú, _don't butt in on other people's displays of public affection!" The teacher sunk low in his chair, having received a murderous glare from the class rep.

Upon seeing Arthur already trying to get off Francis from the corner of her eye, the Hungarian girl quickly rushed towards them. The dangerous glint in her eyes unnerved Arthur to the point of manly tears. With a smile she turned to Feliciano, the slender Italian boy who was sharing a desk with his older twin. "Feli, I think I've got the most perfect models for you to draw!"

Feliciano looked slightly confused, "Ve?"

The aura in the room darkened by a few shades as the Hungarian girl tried to keep her temper in check. "You wanted people to model for you... no? Here they are! Look at the chemistry between them! They're perfect." Without leaving a gap for Feliciano to retaliate in, she turned to the passionate couple on the floor. Seriously, she deserved a medal for not jumping them both.

"Elizaveta? Are you all right? Your nose is kind of bleeding." Elizaveta shrugged off the concerned voice of the albino boy sitting close-by.

"You two," she pointed at the couple on the floor. "Monday, straight after school you will come to my house. Feliciano will draw you while I supervise. Any objections?"

"Yes! I can't---" Arthur begun to compose a structured argument but to no avail.

Elizaveta turned and displayed and angelic smile at him which looked nothing short of terrifying. "Objection overruled, _drága_."

Francis looked troubled as Arthur climbed off him.

* * *

So far, today had been the most painful day in Francis' life. Sure; he had been dealing with this kind of treatment on Arthur's part for a while now but there was a limit to how much sexual tension even _he_ could handle. And the fact that Arthur had been straddling him did not help. The weight of the English boy had been heavenly on top of him and those words that he had whispered in his ear had just made him want to take Arthur right there and then...

'_I would be on top.' Nous verrons mon amour, nous verrons... _

Francis let out a humourless chuckle as he was haunted once again by Arthur's image. It was not healthy for him to think of the shorter blond at school but there he was, fantasising about Arthur and the different ways in which Francis could make him submit. Oh just how good it would feel to bite Arthur's neck as the English boy whimpered beneath him and begged for more---

"Okay, Francis, enough drooling... it's starting to creep the awesome me out." Gilbert shouted as he waited oh-so-very-patiently for Francis to get changed out of his gym uniform. Francis sighed and tried to get changed faster as Antonio joined Gilbert, fully dressed in his usual school uniform now. The French boy had no idea how they got changed so fast but then again it probably was him who was too slow; his brain was not being very co-operative today. Francis pulled his school sweater on and stuffed his sweaty gym clothes into his bag. Ignoring the glares he received from the albino boy for being very slow at his job.

Finally, the three of them were out of the school grounds, Antonio telling Francis and Gilbert about his relationship with Lovino and Gilbert laughing about how "unawesome" Antonio was acting around the stubborn Italian boy. Francis on the other hand was not paying attention. He was just gazing into the distance and still thinking about his _ange Britannique. _

"Francis, what lesson are we being examined on tomorrow?" Gilbert asked and Francis frowned, wondering when the conversation had transformed into school subjects.

"_Je ne sais pas, _but I do have the list in my diary." And with that Francis reached for his schoolbag, only to come to the realisation that it had disappeared. _Oh, great._ "I am going back to school; it seems I have left my bag in the changing room."

"_Versager._"

Francis smiled at the German speaking boy pleasantly before he punched his arm lightly. "Takes one to know one." And before his friend could react to that, French boy ran off to the school, his lean, toned legs taking him there with athletic ease. Once in the school building he ceased his running, navigating his way through the school with ease and smiling at finding the changing room unlocked.

As soon as he stepped inside he spotted his bag, right where he had left it. As he was just about to leave he heard someone switch on the water. _Someone is having a shower... now?_ Well, Francis was not going to pass up on the opportunity of spying on someone as they were having a shower. He smirked as he moved closer to the semi-cubicles, giving himself a good view of the person showering.

Francis tried his utmost best not to throw up everything he had eaten since that morning when his face made contact with the body before him. The boy was facing the shower, unaware that he was being staked by Francis, but Francis was not interested in the boy's body... not in _that_ way at least. He eyes were trained on the boy's back.

It looked like a vicious creature had torn the boy's back or used it as some sort of battle field. Many angry red lines criss-crossed pale white ones; all of them at different stages of healing. A particular long and deep cut was what occupied Francis' mind; it was stretching from one shoulder to the opposite hip, the skin stitched together as if a child had sown it together. What was worse was that Francis could see blood seeping out from the wound, mixing with the water and making its way to the drain. As if someone had wanted to cut his body in half.

* * *

Arthur suddenly turned around as he felt unwanted eyes upon his body. He cursed himself for being so careless. He should have gone home to take a shower in the privacy of his own bathroom but _no_ he had felt sweaty and tense form the PE lesson and thought he should quickly get it over and done with. _And now here I am... I just hope it is not one of the teachers..._

Arthur spun around to meet the eyes of the person who had dared to spy on him and froze as his gaze crossed Francis'. _Oh, God... not him... not Francis. No!_ Arthur lost his ability to talk and move as Francis' blue eyes bore into his with a mixture of shock, surprise, worry, disgust, pity and concern. He had no idea what the French boy was thinking. Maybe he could quickly get dressed and run away and then deny anything Francis said about the state of his body? Only Arthur realised how Francis could easily prove that his body was scarred.

Suddenly something completely different occured to him: Arthur was standing in front of Francis completely naked... he just hoped, wished, _prayed _that his thoughts did not run in an inappropriate manner. However when he looked at Francis again he came to the realisation that when Francis looked at him in the way he was now, he would die.

Francis seemed to be in a trance as he approached Arthur. His eyes seemed to have undergone an absolute change as they just seemed icy and cold right now. Yet when he spoke his voice was warm and full of concern with a hint of unveiled anger and hatred blended into it. "Who did this to you?"

Arthur was taken aback by the question, expecting something along the lines of a comment about the state of his body. Therefore he did not know how to answer it. One thing he did know was that there was no in Hell he could tell Francis the real reason behind his injuries. Francis moved closer, this time more cautiously as if he expected Arthur to get scared and run away any moment now. He took Arthur's face between his hands, holding him tenderly, as if he was afraid that touching any other part of Arthur's body would break the English boy.

"_Quel monstre a fait ceci à vous?_" Arthur knew that he could not pull away from the strong gaze of the French teen but he still refused to answer. "_Dites-moi! Je dois savoir._ I have to know!"

"Leave me alone." Arthur said, intending it to come out powerful but he was only able to muster a weak plea. Francis responded by moving his hands to Arthur's neck, resting them at the nape and moving in to plaster his forehead to the shorter boy's.

"_Je ne peux pas vous laisser._" Arthur closed his eyes as the words washed over him, trying to hungrily breathe in Francis' unique scent. He tried to behave his body... willed it to behave itself after he clearly failed to do so himself. Arthur broke the contact and moved towards his bag and clothes. He was putting them on roughly, lost in his thoughts as French hands stopped him. "You need to bandage some of tho---"

"Go away. I don't want you!" _I just need you desperately. _Arthur lashed out with his mind at Francis. Feeling terrible as he saw hurt and sadness make its way to the taller blonds face. "I can take care of myself."

Francis snapped at Arthur's careless words. "Yeah, I can see clearly how well you can take care of yourself." Yet he allowed Arthur to get dressed, not taking his eyes off the torn body, determined to carve every single wound to his memory. When he was fully dressed Francis examined the boy before him. Seeing pink newly formed stains on Arthur's uniform. Francis grabbed his hand and led Arthur in the direction of his house. Only giving the explanation of "your wounds need proper care" when Arthur asks.

"I need to get home fast... I wasted enough time here already!" Arthur protested to no avail. "My brothers will be worried! Francis let go!"

Then everything clicked in Francis' brain. The wounds, the way Arthur was reluctant, the odd cursed he muttered whenever his brother's came up in a conversation... the way his tone was afraid now... Francis clenched his jaw, his eyes darkening with determination at his new-found targets.

Francis Bonnefoy was going to make Arthur's brothers go through Hell for what they did to the English boy. He swore it upon his honour that no would ever hurt Arthur again. Then unexpectedly he pressed his lips to a bewildered Arthur's, sealing his vow. _Je promets…_

* * *

**I love Elizaveta. She is adorable. Reminds me of myself and other fangirls I know... mwahahaha. Heh. Okay so stick here for the next chapter... there will be lots of drama and maybe something between our hurt little motorbiker and French boy... And do tell me how you like the story so far... **

_**FRENCH**_

**Mon petit ami Anglais --- **_**My English boyfriend**_

**Oh là là, mon cher --- **_**Oh, there, there my dear**_

**sac de poinçon --- **_**punch bag **_

**petit bateau, mon amour --- **_**little boat, my love**_

**Nous verrons mon amour, nous verrons... --- **_** We'll see my love, we'll see...**_

**ange Britannique --- **_**British angel**_

**Je ne sais pas --- **_**I don't know**_

**Quel monstre a fait ceci à vous? --- **_** Which monster did this to you?**_

**Dites-moi! Je dois savoir. --- **_**Tell me! I must know.**_

**Je ne peux pas vous laisser. --- **_**I cannot leave you.**_

**Je promets… --- **_**I promise...**_

_**HUNGARIAN**_

**fattyú --- **_**bastard (I think this is more like saying "illegitimate child" so correct me if I am wrong) **_

**drága --- **_**darling / dear**_

_**GERMAN**_

**Versager --- **_**Loser**_


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur felt guilty as he left the Bonnefoy household after making sure that Francis was tucked in and soundly sleeping. His brothers were going to be fuming when they found out. They would throw an anger fit and... and... _oh God. _Oh, _dear God, please no_!

They would want Francis out of the picture.

They would want _his_ Francis six feet under where he can never talk about Arthur's wounds again. _Hell no. _If push came to shove then Arthur would only be loyal to one person and a pokemon sticker to anyone who can guess who that was. Arthur tightened his hold on his schoolbag, his knuckles becoming whiter with every passing second. _No one will harm Francis as long as I am alive. _

_No one. _

* * *

As Arthur unlocked the door to his house and more importantly the head quarters for the Irish Mob, he was greeted by at least seven men, mostly covered in tattoos. One of them jokingly called out to him. "Hey, soft boy." And Arthur had to use all of his willpower not to lash out at the man in his current mood. But _damn_ at times like this he was more than willing to toss aside his vow of not hurting others outside of... of... sigh... _Francis I don't deserve you._

Slowly, he reached the living room, all his brothers were seated on a sofa, having a heated discussion with the Cuban and the Turkish guy. Sadiq seemed to be running out of patience by every passing second, Arthur could see his muscles flexing impatiently under his clothing. Suddenly he got up from his seat harshly and turned towards Arthur, stopping in his tracks as soon as his brown eyes rested on cold green. "Arthur!"

The whole room turned towards Arthur to gape at him. Arthur felt his cheeks becoming red and waited for an explanation. His oldest brother, Liam, jumped from his seat and run to Arthur, pushing him roughly against the wall. Arthur felt the big wound on his back open at the harsh contact with the wall but if he felt any pain he didn't say anything. He would never show weakness in front of his brothers. Without any warning, Liam punched his brother's stomach. Watching with anger as blood seeped through Arthur's lips.

"What time do you call this?" Liam hissed in his ear, oblivious to the way how Arthur was clenching and unclenching his fists. "Answer me!" Another punch, this time to his solar plexus, leaving him further winded and unable to talk... not that he was going to give in anyway. "You dare leave yesterday night in a mess and then disappear? Do you know that the police are out there looking for you now? Searching high and low because you left your DNA all over the pavement?"

Arhtur didn't reply... so the mistakes he had made last night had resulted in him being a no. 1 wanted criminal. _So what? _He actually chuckled. This was bound to happen sometime. After 3 years of hunting people at night he knew he was bound to slip up some time. _Hah... if it means that all _this _will end, then let them come._ His chuckle rewarded Arthur another blow, another one to his stomach. This time Arthur was unable to hold back the cough that erupted from his lungs and something dangerous glinted in his emerald eyes.

To his eldest brother's dismay, the seven thugs that were stationed outside the room were now watching the scene before them. The one who had called Arthur "soft" earlier was now bursting from his laughter. It was no secret that Arthur was to become the next leader of the Mob, and to see their future boss in such state disgusted the tattoo ridden man. The glint in Arthur's eyes became even more dangerous upon seeing the man. He dug his nails into his palms. A smile spreading to fill his lips. _Can I take out all of them by myself?_ HELL YES.

Yet before he could do anything, Sadiq intervened the next punch, which was also aimed at his stomach. "Liam, leave him alone. Arthur needs to rest, let him go." Liam looked like he might beat Sadiq next but decided against it. Sadiq was young but he already had a notorious reputation, not someone he wanted to mess with... just yet.

"Sadiq is right, Liam. Arthur looks quite tired, you might want to let him rest." Arthur nearly laughed again, this time to the fake affectionate tone of Caden. If you didn't know the bastard you might have thought that he actually cared about Arthur's well being. _What sort of caring brothers make you endanger your life every single night to take others' lives?_

"This isn't over, Arthur. We will have a talk, tomorrow." Suddenly Arthur went crazy, shaking himself out of Liam's iron grip.

"We will do no such thing." He sneered. "Talk. Here. Now. I am listening." Then his head snapped to the seven men stood by the door, watching Arthur's retaliation with awe and shock. "Out." He shouted at them and waited impatiently as they filed out of the door. Only satisfied after hearing the door shut with a bang as they left the house. And suddenly, Arthur was left facing the only people in the world who knew of his secret identity: Liam, Caden, Peter, Ismael and Sadiq.

"Arthur, there has been complications at the police station after last night." Ismael begun, a Mob member who had been stationed as an officer in the police force. He also happened to be one of the very few people Liam completely trusted. "They've found your blood sample on the floor and on the victims---"

"You were careless." Liam butted in.

Arthur was getting angry, beneath his calm exterior. "They knew of the attack. They were expecting me."

"Are you sure?" Caden asked through gritted teeth. Arthur didn't bother replying.

"That complicates things..." Ismael said, looking at Arthur. "Liam, there can't be anymore killings for a while yet. Not when they are hot on the case. I will do whatever is in my power to destroy the blood sample but it wont be easy."

"There is a spy in the Mob." Liam stated bluntly. _Well... no shit, Sherlock. _"Caden, how many people knew of this attack beforehand?"

Caden threw back his head, resting it on the couch before replying. "It wasn't really a secret now was it, Liam? You didn't really conceal your intentions... a lot of people knew of your hatred."

Liam cracked his knuckles. "So how far along the case are they?"

"Well, they know about the last 11 killings but are treating them as separate cases, even though they know that each cases are connected due to the clovers left at the crime scene." Ismael continued, as Liam looked quite proud and smug. "They also have a basic description of Arthur. About the motorbike and of course the DNA sample... but that's about it."

"So, whacha you saying? That Arthur can't carry on anymore?"

"No, just that he should lie down Liam. Let the water calm down a bit before he splashes in again."

"So, what does that mean?" Caden looked like he had a good mind to hit Liam just then.

Ismael on the other hand kept his cool, "I mean you move out of this house, sell it, burn it... whatever." He paused to light his cigar, placing it between his lips. "Of course they figured out it's the doing of the Mob." Liam arched his eyebrows. "Course they do... the clovers?" Offered Ismael. "Anyway... maybe you should send Arthur away?"

Arthur snapped his eyes to the brown ones of the Cuban. "Lie down for how long? Caden asked, calculating.

"I'll let you know when it all dies down a bit." Ismael said, running his hand through his dreadlocks, deep in thought.

"Hey, Ismael... have you put on weight?" Liam asked, his eyes drawn to the suit the Cuban was wearing. Ismael punched Liam's arm lightly.

"Like Hell I did." He laughed and begun bickering with Liam for a good five minutes until they were interrupted by a serene voice.

"Arthur can stay with me." Sadiq said. His eyes trained on Liam. "You attracted too much attention tonight; what on Earth were you thinking hurting him in front of... forget that, what were you thinking hurting him at all? Can't you see the way he looks?" Arthur looked at the Turkish boy in confusion... surely he didn't look _that _bad. But now that Sadiq had mentioned it, he could still taste blood in his mouth.

"Stay with you?" Caden asked, thoughtful.

"Yeah... he begun to attract too much attention since you announced that he was to be the next leader and the way you treat him in front of the members don't help." He said to Liam. "What d'you say?"

It wasn't everyday that Sadiq gave advice but when he did it was to be taken into account and if there was something Liam had learnt about Sadiq, it was to take his advice. Arthur looked at Sadiq. He was sitting on the floor crossed legged, looking back with powerful dark brown eyes. It unnerved Arthur to see Sadiq without his mask, especially when he smiled and laughed genuinely... thinking that such carefree person as Sadiq could kill many in such cold-blood. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to judge Sadiq from just that. Afterall, how could _he, _Arthur Kirkland, judge anyone when he was called the devil by some?

Slowly Liam nodded. "Peter, go help Arthur pack up."

* * *

Peter smirked as he watched Arthur change his clothes. Most of his wounds covered in bandages, as if someone had had fun wrapping his brother like a gift, complete with bows. Although, nearly all of his back was concealed in gauzes, the ugly wound on his back was still visible between the gaps. _Tsk, Caden needs to learn how to stitch properly._ He hopped up and down on his brother's bed as Arthur completed changing into a studded black leather jacket, a sex pistols t-shirt (which of course covered his scarred arms), with _God save the Queen_ inscribed on it. He wore tartan skinny jeans with a studded belt.

After he finished gelling his hair, he stuffed as much of his wardrobe into the suitcase, as quickly as possible. Then he remembered his extra school uniform and stuffed that in as well as his school books. No way was he going to let something as stupid as this get in the way of his education. He swung his backpack onto his shoulder as he went to the bathroom to grab some essentials. When he came back his eyes rested on his younger brother.

Peter smirked again as his brother's eyes met his turquoise gaze. "Anything you want to say Peter?" Arthur asked coldly.

Peter laughed. "Except for the fact that one day I am going to surpass you...? No... But I must admit that I like what you've done to your back. Is it a new fashion statement? You know... I-am-so-emo-that-cutting-my-wrists-wasn't-enough-and-now-I've-moved-onto-my-back?"

"Oh, do grow up Peter!" Arthur snapped.

"You know what _jerk_? I think I can take on you in a few months time. That I can beat the unbeatable Kirkland and when that day comes you will bow down to me." Arthur sighed and picked up his suitcase. "Oh and listening to your dreams are funny did you know that?" Arthur's head snapped up as he dropped the suitcase on his foot. Peter laughed. "So, what were you saying? Oh, I know. 'Francis, I love you, Francis more, please, Francis, Fra---"

Arthur moved swiftly and plastered Peter to the wall, not unlike what Liam had done to him earlier that night but this was not something he needed to hear from his 15 year old brother. Peter on the other hand just laughed.

"You are a pathetic jerk, Arthur. Begging even in your dreams... Maybe I should tell Liam about your obsession with this Francis? I'm sure---" And for the first time Arthur did something he had never done before; he slapped Peter. And the worse thing? He didn't feel guilty. No one was going to threaten Francis and get away with it.

_No one. _

* * *

Sadiq smiled at Arthur, a warm welcoming smile, although he had tried to keep a straight face before Arthur's brothers. But now that he was alone with Arthur and quite far away from the Mob head-quarters, he relaxed considerably. "So how much did Liam's blows hurt?"

Arthur knew there was no point in lying. "Pretty much made me want to kill him."

A chuckle came from Sadiq as he struggled to keep his eyes off the road. "That bad, huh?" Arthur shrugged, his thoughts going towards Francis for the first time since he got home. "Something on your mind?"

_Busted._ But there was no point hiding it from Sadiq. Not when he had rescued him from the clutches of his 3 evil brothers. "Yeah, Francis caught me in the shower today."

"Man, don't tell me you had steamy shower sex." Arthur blushed at the idea, somehow sure that if he got any sleep at all, this thought would wonder into his dream. _Damn._

"No, moron. He saw me naked." Then understanding washed over Sadiq.

"Holy fuck! You mean... like your penis and balls and shit? What were you doing? Masturbating or something?!" Arthur face-palmed.

"No! He saw my wounds. All the scars and... and shit." Sadiq accidentally stepped on the brake pedal a tad too hard.

"What did he say?" He asked as the car right behind them began honking impatiently.

"He is convinced that my brothers are sadistic maniacs that beat me up." _Wait a minute... my brothers _are _sadistic maniacs... and the incident with Liam proved that._

"Sounds to me like he kinda got the right picture... but what is the real problem?" Sadiq asked, restarting the engine again as his jaguar disobeyed him.

"Well he looked like he was about to phone the social services and report the lot of them and you can imagine how _that _would have gone down with Liam..."

Silence. "You are not telling me something."

Arthur banged his head on the head rest. _He caught me again._ "Well, he kind of offered for me to live with him. Said that I either report them or I go stay with him. Not much of a choice, now, is there?"

"Hmmm, I guess not." Silence again... "So did you agree?" Arthur ran his hands through his hair and nodded.

"Yes, I did. But I can't... not with the police looking for me and not to mention that Liam would never allow such... such thing. Dear God, he'd _kill_ Francis if he found out that he saw my wounds..."

"You are such a dumbass, you know that?" Arthur blinked innocently. _Huh?_ "Arthur, you are no longer living with your brothers! You are nowhere near them! You can go live the life you never did!"

"Have you been taking philosophy lessons from Heracles again?"

"Shut up!" Arthur laughed as he saw how Sadiq's cheeks flushed. Then he did an unexpected U-turn and grinned at Arthur in that careless way. "You owe me petrol for not telling me earlier." He said and floored the accelerator.

Arthur laughed again... how long had it been since he really laughed like this? Months? Years? Although Sadiq always did manage to get him to smile in a way or another. But he now believed that things could get better. That he could _be _a teenager. Could study to his heart's content, could go to museum's and see the latest exhibitions and such.

"Fine," Arthur begun, "but I am still not sitting with you in school during lunch."

"Not even if I bribed you with Ashure?"

"No, not even then."

"Oh, man..."

_Yes, everything is going to be alright. _

**A/N**

**Okay... I put in Turkey in this chapter... why? Because he is so mysterious, and if you couldn't tell so far; I happen to be a big sucker for mysterious men. :D**

**And who else thinks that there is something seriously wrong with Arthur's description of being a teenager? :P **

**And don't shoot me for Francis not being in this chapter. :) I promise next chapter will be more eventful... unfortunately this was just a filler. But necessary. **

**And the full Kirkland family (in order of age: oldest to...)**

**Ross --- (24) **oldest, hardly ever there. (SCOTLAND)

**Liam --- (22)**boss of the Irish Mob (BOTH IRELANDS)

**Caden ---(22) **third oldest, the one who usually patched Arthur up ever night. (WALES)

**Arthur --- (17)**The black motorbike riding assassin :D (ENGLAND)

**Peter ---(15) **youngest who wants to beat Arthur and become the best. (SEALAND)

Oh and I was asked... Francis, Arthur, Sadiq are all 17. :D


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur hauled his suitcase from the boot of Sadiq's car. It was almost 5:30 AM but he hardly cared as he picked the lock to Francis' apartment. He sighed as he heard the door open with a satisfying click and made a mental note of telling Francis to get a stronger lock. _That was too easy, it's a wonder you don't get burgled every darn day. _

Once inside Arthur tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake Francis up. He moved his stuff to the living room, hoping that Francis' offer to stay in his house was still valid, he doubted the French guy had even asked his parents' permissions. Arthur suddenly began feeling nervous; _what if he changed his mind? _After all, Francis did not have to _care_ about Arthur at all. _Arthur_ was no one special, just a classmate.

_And how far would Francis would go for just a friend?_

Especially a friend who showed him hostility every day... one he fought over stupid things with. Arthur groaned and realised just _how much_ he did _not_ deserve the French boy. He dumped his school bag on top of his suitcase and _froze _like a fox caught in headlights_._

Arthur turned around slowly to meet a pair of blue eyes staring straight at him, the boy sitting very still on an armchair. Francis must have woken up at some point in the last 3 hours for now he was glaring intensely at Arthur, looking annoyed, angry, hurt and vulnerable all at the same time. The English boy gulped uneasily as the taller teen got up from his seat and approached him.

"How long have you been awake?"

Francis ignored Arthur's question, now plainly glaring at Arthur with pure hatred. "You went back home?"

Arthur was taken aback by the amount of hurt and betrayal he heard in the French boy's voice. "I had to."

"_Oui_? Why would you need to go back to the people who hurt you like that?" Francis asked coldly. Suddenly, Arthur felt defensive, not wanting to yield to those powerful eyes.

"What business is it of yours if I went back to them?" The look he received from Francis made him stagger backwards, right into his suitcase. He hated himself even more at that moment for putting Francis through so much apparent pain.

"You're right. You are not my business." Now it was Arthur's turn to look as if Francis had torn his heart into a billion pieces. _I hadn't meant it like that._

Arthur turned around grabbed his stuff off the floor, having ruined all his chances of staying with Francis now. He tried to keep his tears in check as he made his way to the door... funny how he had entered this house with such high hopes but---

"_Restez s'il vous plaît._" Arthur looked down at his wrist, which was now encased in Francis' firm grip. "Please... I'm sorry for being a jerk... I just cannot understand how you could go back so easily."

"I needed my stuff." Arthur managed through a very dry throat.

"You could have borrowed mine..." Francis' breath caught in his chest as he imagined Arthur in one his shirts, his hair all messy, a blush on his cheeks...

"I always planned on coming back_._" _Back to you. _Arthur turned around to see Francis' face... still confused as to why he cared so much. He nearly gasped when he saw the lustful gaze Francis had directed at him. _Oh, bloody hell no._ Arthur watched with starved eyes as Francis took a closer step to him. And another. _Don't Francis... just don't._ Now they were standing so painfully close that Arthur could feel Francis' breath on his lips. Then Francis closed that gap, leaning down swiftly towards Arthur to... to... to take his suitcase from him. Arthur nearly, very-goddamn-nearly screamed out in frustration. _Fucking, flipping git. _

Served him right for thinking anything of such nature in the first place.

"I'll show you to your room, then we can get ready for_ école_. Oh and I'd appreciate it if you didn't pick my lock... it's very creepy."

God-fucking-damn you, freaky _frog _too_._

* * *

Francis was looking at Arthur, feeling as if he had won the lottery. _And this weeks jackpot ladies and gentleman is Arthur Kirkland. The sole winner of this prize is..._

"Francis?" The French boy snapped his head to the direction the divine voice came from.

"Hmmm?" Arthur nearly choked on air when he heard the seductive tones to Francis' voice. Pity the French didn't swing that way. "Oh, I forgot to tell you yesterday that you have such a sexy bum." He said before Arthur could say anything else. _Okay maybe I jumped the gun way too fast._ "Oh, just how much I want to bury myself in that supple---"

"If you think that just because you are letting me stay here I am not going to kill you then you are sorely mistaken." Then it hit Arthur like physical blow. "Francis, where are your parents?"

"In France?" Francis offered with a sly smile. Upon catching Arthur's worried expression his smile grew even wider. "I have been living alone for the past two years, _mon amour._"

"But... but is it okay for me to come and stay then?" Arthur gulped, wondering what type of mess he was getting himself into.

"Hmm, lets say in return for you staying here, you can pay me with your body."

"Go to Hell, Bonnefoy."

"That phrase seems to be popular with you." He sighed. "So do you like your room?" Francis asked with huge hopeful eyes.

"Yeah it is lovely." Arthur said, too mesmerised by Francis to be able to even glance at the room.

"_Menteur_! You didn't even look. Perhaps you rather stare at me than---"

" I _do _ not stare!"

"You do too. But that is fine, maybe you can relieve me of my sexual frustration?" Francis closed the gap between him and Arthur for the second time that day. This time his hand cupping Arthur's jaw in his palm, the other wondering around foreign grounds. He chuckled as he saw Arthur's frozen expression, then swiftly pressed his lips to the shorter blond's. Such heavenly softness... He begun moving his lips slightly at first so that Arthur could get used to the sensation, though Francis was having difficulty coming to terms with it himself.

_Arthur was going to live with him. Arthur was not pushing him away..._ Well, neither was he enthusiastically kissing back... instead he seemed rooted to the spot. Now Francis had a dilemma: should he take advantage of Arthur's shock or should he stop and wait for Arthur's brain to catch up.

Francis slowly pulled away and smiled as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. Arthur would have been fooled by that cheery face had Francis been standing further away. The next time Francis leaned back down towards his lips again, Arthur took a step back. Hurt and pain took their toll on Francis' godly features.

"I'm sorry Francis but I am not gay." Arthur swallowed, trying to hope that it didn't sound as weak as it did in his mind. But then again it was probably the truth. Arthur only felt like this when he was around Francis. So did that make him asexual with the exception of the French boy? _God, _life was confusing.

"I know, I was just fooling around but now you know who to come to if you want a blow job or even a hand job." Francis turned around to hide the tears in his eyes from Arthur, hoping the English boy wouldn't catch on. Then he chuckled, steeling himself, swallowing back the sobs that threatened to rip his chest apart and willing the tears back. "You know Arthur, you should be careful around me, being straight hasn't stopped me so far and I am not going to make any exceptions for you." With that he turned around to face Arthur with a smirk, challenging him to call his bluff.

Arthur looked anywhere _but _those hungry eyes. "Thanks for the warning, I'll be on my guard. Now I need to get ready for school."

Arthur wanted to cry. Francis was showing (mock) interest in him, but he could not return it under any circumstances because he would put Francis' life in danger. Not that staying here wasn't doing that already. But Arthur didn't want Francis to know more than he did already... he didn't want to stain one as pure as him.

* * *

At 7:30 AM Arthur was ready. He had placed his stuff in the drawers Francis cleared out for him, not that they had much to begin with, since Arthur was to stay in Francis' parent's room. The one very bad thing about the small flat was that it had only one bathroom, meaning he had to share it with Francis... it would have been fine if it had a lock. _But it doesn't._

Francis came into the room unannounced, causing Arthur to jump when he began speaking. "Pity, I liked your punky clothes better than your school uniform. Though I must say they both have their good points."

Arthur turned around just in time to see Francis licking his bottom lip. He gulped. Why did Francis have to be so goddamn-toturously sexy? "Oh... umm... yeah?" _Way to go Kirkland._ "You uniform looks nice too. Where did you get it from?"

Francis laughed. "Come on, breakfast is ready."

"Huh?"

"_Petit déjeuner._ The food you have in the morning?" Francis asked, hoping that he was not dealing with a complete idiotic form of Arthur.

"Oh... you mean breakfast..."

"Yes, _mon amour_, usually when one says _breakfast_ they mean breakfast." Then he gave Arthur one of his patented smirks. "But I'd rather have you than breakfast any day."

"Oh, joy..." Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't normally eat breakfast, you shouldn't have gone to the trouble---"

"_Tais-tois! _It was no trouble, I do it everyday."

"But I'll be late to school---"

"Yeah about that... why do you go to school at 8 every morning? It starts at 9 for God's sake."

"Shut it _frog_." But Francis was right. The only reason he had been going to school early was to avoid his brothers... now he was living with Francis... "I like going to school early and bright." Only since they were in Britain it was hardly ever bright.

"If you say so, now off we go the kitchen." He extended his hand for Arthur to take. Arthur looked timidly at the offering and decided against it, quite sure that the less bodily contact meant less sexual frustration. He got up swiftly, making it obvious that he never needed help getting up in the first place.

Francis pulled his outstretched hand into a fist. Breathing out evenly... so that was how it was going to be... He sighed and led into the kitchen.

Arthur was astounded at the amount of food that covered the 6-seater table. Everything looked too well presented to eat. Francis took the seat across from him, waiting for Arthur to help himself to food.

"Are you going to eat yourself or do you want me to feed you?" Arthur gulped again and picked up his fork.

"You better not have poisoned any of this." He warned Francis.

"Don't worry, if you die I would follow right after." Francis whispered, reaching for his own fork. Arthur picked a slice of omelette and put it in his plate, by this time he was painfully aware of Francis' stare. Slowly he took a bite, hoping that it was not laced with Sildenafil, not that he needed it. He chewed slowly, trying to savour the taste of the omelette before swallowing. Upon seeing Arthur swallow Francis leaned in towards him. "How was it?"

"Umm, alright I guess."

"Alright, just alright?" Francis looked crestfallen.

"It was good okay, don't push it _frog._"

Francis nodded. "You've got half an hour to eat everything on this table." He looked upset. Leaned back on his chair and watched Arthur eat.

"I'm going to be obese."

"Will serve you right. Now eat, you have 29 minutes remaining." Arthur looked at all the food on the table and sighed. Sure, he was hungry, not having had anything to eat since yesterday lunchtime at school but this was going to be a stretch. If the rest of the food didn't taste just as good or even better than the omelet, Arthur was sure he wouldn't have eaten it all. Still, this was Francis... and he was willing to eat poison if it was Francis asking him. He sighed and tucked into the 5th dish.

Francis looked at the food on the table, there were 4 minutes remaining and a little bit of food. He looked at Arthur who seemed absolutely worn out from eating. He took this as a sign and sat right next to the shorter blond. He picked up Arthur's fork stabbed at the sausage. Before he took a bite of it he made sure Arthur was looking and then lowering his eyes he bit down seductively on the sausage.

Arthur clenched his fists under the table. _Damn the French frog for being so seductive. _But for the life of him, Arthur could not bring himself to look away from the scene before him, it was difficult enough when Francis was not doing anything so erotic but when he was... Arthur tried to tame his throbbing erection. Then Francis offered the other end of the sausage to him. Arthur surprised himself with the energy that burst through him. He was sure that if Francis got any closer he would rape him or something, so he knocked Francis' hand away and ran to the bathroom.

Damn the sexy French man that called him back from the kitchen.

* * *

Arthur and Francis made their ways silently to the school. Arthur still angry with himself for reacting like a little frustrated kid and Francis just walking in wonder. Suddenly something occurred to Arthur.

"Francis, are you going to tell anyone that I am living with you?"

Francis answered in a monotone. "Not unless you particularly want me to."

Arthur sighed in relief, he couldn't risk Peter finding out, especially since they went to the same school. "Thank you." He said an Francis raised his eyebrows. "No, really thank you. For letting me stay, for making breakfast, for everything."

Francis looked like he was about to say something but instead just settled for shrugging. Arthur sighed and cursed himself for turning the one of school's most boisterous people to an emo kid in less than 4 hours.

Francis, stole a glance of Arthur from the corner of his eye. He noticed that the teen looked considerably distraught.

"Don't look so gloomy Arthur, we'll have sex tonight to make up for it." Arthur glared at him with new-found intensity. Francis smiled at himself.

_Arthur Kirkland, vous serez la mort de moi._

**A/N **

**Oh dear... this was a hard chapter to write, and I promise all the sexy goodness is coming soon. Until then stick with me. :D**

**And sorry this update is late… but if I am to be truthful, I actually forgot all about uploading. I was too caught in writing you see. **

**Sildenafil** is a drug sold as Viagra and such, used to treat erectile dysfunction. Basically so that you can have a lot of sex. ;)

**Oui? – Yes?**

**Restez s'il vous plait – Stay please**

**Petit déjeuner – Breakfast**

**Tais-tois! – Shut up!**

**Vous serez la mort de moi. – You will be the death of me.**


	6. Chapter 6

The next few days was Hell. Actually, Arthur would have preferred to go on painful killing sprees than face Francis for another minute. So, yeah... definitely worse than Hell.

Not only had Francis been trying to pressurise Arthur to sleep in the same bed with him, he had tried to touch him in all sorts of -dangerous- areas. Seriously, he needed to be awarded the Nobel Prize for self-restraint. Anyone else and Francis would have been completely ravished. Arthur tried to dissolve yet another image of Francis; naked and sitting on his bed like an offering.

It had been harder than hard. (Hah, get it - hard? No...? Well, never mind then.) Harder than the hardest _thing_ ever to wake up from a wet dream everysinglefuckingmorning and at least 2 times throughout the night. _So much for being a commited insomniac._ It didn't help that the object of his desires was only sleeping in the next room, only separated by a thin wall. This he knew to be a fact because he could hear Francis making out with his hand from time to time. _As he was doing right at this moment._

Arthur placed his hands obstinately over his ears, willing himself not to hear the sweet and seductive moans that were coming from Francis' lips. One slightly loud moan that sounded too much like _Arthur_ and the English boy was on his feet. Awkward silence as no noise was made and then a soft sigh from the other side of the wall. Arthur rested his hand on the handle of his door only to pull back as if the metal scorched his skin. His fingers run harshly through his blond hair, giving him a headache along with a somewhat clearer mind.

Finally he plopped himself down on the floor, his back leaning against the offending wall and he softly banged his head against the wall repeatedly. He couldn't believe the French frog. Who would masturbate at 5 PM knowing full well that someone was in the next room? His head felt as if it was to explode any second.

_I need alcohol._ Another indecent moan. _A lot of it._

He moved from his position to do some sit-ups. Concentrating only on keeping count... it did work for a few seconds and then he lost control once the noises got louder. _How long is he taking?_ Arthur swiftly moved to push-ups, his arm muscles flexing underneath his too-large-punk-band-theemed jumper.

Banishing the image of a Francis writhing from pleasure, Arthur began counting: 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 97, 98, 99, 100. He finally decided to stop at 151, his body more alert than it had been for the past few days now. Immediately he cursed himself. _I need alcohol. _The good thing was that he could no longer hear Francis. So he got up in one fluid motion and got out of his room. He paused when he reached Francis' door, his hand hovering over the handle. What if he walked into find Francis naked? What if... Arthur sighed, feeling all the sexual frustration he had just buried in the back of his mind come back to the surface again. _Thanks for nothing._

He closed his eyes momentarily and opened the door against his better judgement. Swallowing hard and hoping that Francis had enough mind to put on some clothing. Needless to say, Arthur was dumbfounded to find Francis lying peacefully on his bed, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. It was amazing how innocent the French pervert seemed whilst asleep. So astoundingly beautiful and angel-like. Arthur allowed himself a smile, feeling his love for the sleeping boy grow. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be able to watch Francis sleeping like that everyday.

He moved his hands in front of Francis' closed eyes to make sure that his frog was truly asleep. He nearly chuckled at how possessive he was being... _his Francis._

_Mine._

Satisfied that Francis was sincerely asleep, Arthur leaned down and kissed the French boy's lips softly. A butterfly kiss. He then pulled back from Francis, a blush spreading across his cheeks and blood rushing down to his groin. _Perfect!_

Being driven with unreasonable sexual desires, Arthur grabbed his coat and his set of keys, (Francis had insisted that he didn't pick the lock again) and wore his black converses. With dark emerald eyes Arthur slowly let the door shut with a soft click.

He needed ungodly amount of alcohol to knock him out so that he wouldn't end up raping Francis over the night. Maybe he wouldn't come 'home' at all.

Francis' eyes flew open as he heard the click of the door. Slowly getting up, he allowed himself to touch his lips, where Arthur had _kissed_ him. A smile took hold of his face.

_Arthur._

Very very slowly, as his thought process progressed, Francis' smile turned into a smirk. There was no way Arthur was getting away from him now. So he lay back, another smile finding its way to his lips and slowly he drifted into sleep.

The night was only beginning. He was at home in the darkness, somewhat slowly becoming an artificial vampire. _Careful Arthur, you might begin to sparkle in the sun tomorrow and _then _what will you do?_

Arthur laughed humourlessly as he sat on the stool, his arms resting on the countertop, his head cradled between his hands. He needed alcohol so _bad_. It was a beneficial addiction... one that put his mind at rest every night. It wasn't easy being an insomniac and he found that alcohol was a good companion who tucked him in to his bed without fail each and every night.

The Italian bartender glanced at him, not daring to ask if he was ready to order yet. Arthur chuckled at Lovino's uncertainty. The bartender didn't ever want Arthur to drink... he dreaded the consequences of having Arthur drunk and violent. Slowly Arthur smiled at him and the man came closer grudgingly, ready to take his order.

"I want the strongest shit you have in here and keep them coming until I pass out or die. You know who to call when that happens." The Italian gulped and turned his back to Arthur, selecting alcoholic beverages from various shelves and mixing them up for Arthur, and in the process dropping a few bottles in the process due to his clumsiness and throws around profanities. Honestly, he just hoped and prayed that Arthur didn't throw a fit like the one he did a few nights back. He highly doubted that his parents could afford to refurbish the club for the seventh time this month.

So, their restless routine begun. Arthur drank glass after glass of what felt like tasteless liquids... but then again, he didn't care what they tasted like as long as he didn't feel like he usually did. So after the 4th glass he could feel himself let go slowly... let go enough to not recognise the voice of the person who was who was now occupying his bartender's attention. Arthur took another sip... then groaned when he realised that he had devoured yet another glass.

"May I have dos vidrios de vino, por favor?" A tanned guy with a Spanish accent asked, leaning onto the marble slightly, a lazy smile on his lips.

"Your ID card, bastard?" The bartender demanded with unnecessary force, turning to the Spaniard and fixing him to the spot with his Amber eyes.

"Oh, but Lovino, you do know I am 18, I showed it to earlier on when I bought the beers!" Antonio tried to argue.

"I don't know you, you tomato loving-"

"Lovino... fill it up." Arthur managed between between a clenched jaw. He was already beginning to feel sober and that was never a good thing. Both Lovino and Antonio turned towards Arthur. Lovino cursed again as he grabbed a bottle of _Everclear_ from a secret compartment in the bar and mixed it with a weaker alcohol, he had been slowly increasing the alcohol in Arthur's drinks, so such degree that had it been someone else, Lovino was sure that they would be long dead from alcohol poisoning. Actually he was sure that Arthur himself would die soon from liver failure. It was a surprise he lasted this long.

Antonio watched in shock as he witnessed Lovino pass the glass to Arthur who immediately brought it to his lips and grimaced at the stronger taste. Antonio turned to Lovino, looking rather hurt. "You would serve Arthur knowing that he is 17 but not me even though I am actually-"

"I don't give a fuck what you say Antonio; no ID, no alcohol." Lovino snapped.

"Fine. Fine, I'll go and bring my ID for your inspection, _mi querido_." Seriously, he had no idea why Lovino hated him so much... was he such a despicable person? Reaching his table, he received a sceptical look from Gilbert.

"No luck?"

"He wants to see my ID."

"He must really hate you to make you do that every single time." Th albino muttered with a chuckle.

"Yeah... very funny. He filled Arthur's drink but not-"

"Arthur is here?" Gilbert asked, a smirk taking hold of his features.

"Yes..." The Spaniard said with uncertainty.

"What are you waiting for? Call Francis! An opportunity like this comes only once in a lifetime!"

Francis woke up with a vibration against his outer thigh and the ringing of his mobile phone. He sighed when he saw the caller ID and reluctantly answered it.

"Oui?"

"Hey, wanna meet up with the awesome me and the wimpy Spanish dude?" A too cheerful voice answered him.

"No. I am too busy."

"Really? Not even if I said that Arthur was here drinking like he wanted to kill his liver?" A sinful chuckle.

"Where the Hell are you?" Francis asked, suddenly wide awake and alert.

"Ha ha, I knew you'd cave into my awesome self."

Francis ran inside the night club and was greeted by a chorus of strobe lights and music blaring at him from all four walls. He could barely walk straight let alone find Arthur in the madness. Have you ever seen the effect of strobe lights? The way they mess with your mind, make everyone around you move weirdly... only they weren't moving weirdly... Francis walked to the bar... maybe Lovino would have seen the English boy around.

Then he found him.

Arthur was sitting in the corner, his forefinger circling the rim of the glass, his head on the table. Francis approached him, wondering just how drunk Arthur really was. The shorter blond suddenly brought the glass to his lips, well tried to, as seeing he completely missed his mouth and had to try again. _Pretty drunk, huh?_

Francis reached Arthur just in time to stop the blond from taking a sip of his drink. Arthur's head snapped in his direction... not seeing... his eyes diluted so much that only a very thin band of green was visible.

But when Francis put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, to say he was surprised at the reaction he got would have been an understatement.

Arthur moved in a way that no drunk person should have the agility to do so. He lashed out in a way that was feral. Pather-like, a lion, a tiger. Not _human_.

Arthur got up from his seat as son as the hand came to rest on his shoulder. He wasn't thinking, how could he when he was pissed drunk... no, he was acting on pure impulse and senses. He flung his glass into the farther wall and didn't even wait to see the glass shatter into million pieces rather prettily. No, he didn't even see the defeated look on Lovino's face. Not that he cared. His brothers would pay for the damage later.

Instead, his eyes roamed the club, trying to find the attacker that had _dared_ touch him... oh he would pay. He would pay real good. He shrugged off his coat and balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to fight.

Francis nearly stumbled with the force of Arthur getting up and moving into a fighting stance. His mouth went dry... this wasn't the Arthur he knew, this wasn't _his_ Arthur. This other Arthur suddenly ripped the bar stool from its fixed place and threw it in his general direction albeit a bit clumsily which got Francis wondering about how he would be if he hadn't been drunk... just how graceful his-

The strobe lights suddenly gave out as Arthur flung something at the mains switch. Now the club was eerily covered in blue lightning. The DJ stopped playing. Every eye in the club turned towards Arthur.

The silence was broken by a cocky voice. "Oh, look who we have here... our future king... I don't know what boss was thinking when he chose a pathetic reason for being like you to proceed after him... Actually this is a good opportunity to get rid of you for good."

Arthur squinted through his drunken reverie at the man who was talking... all he heard were the words "king" "you" and "rid". He shrugged, feeling deflated, he had had his burst of violence and now he felt spent.

But that didn't stop one of his brother's rebellious men from lashing out. Had Arthur not been as well trained as he was the fist would have connected with the back of his head, but he wasn't the English Lion for nothing. He spun around just in time to land a punch of his own and ducking at the same time, it was good knowing he could defend himself even when he was drunk and so tired... he yawned.

Another man, this time much more heavier moved simultaneously with the dude to his left, both coming to attack the "wimpy" boy they thought Arthur to be. Arthur wasn't in the modo to be careful about breaking bones and keeping his opponents alive. They had begun the fight in the first place and deserved it for all he cared.

He moved in the only way he knew how; like a predator, stalking his prey. A few more well placed punches and kicks later, his two opponents were defeated. Unfortunately for him the remaining lot were clever than the ones littering the floor as the 7 of them moved as a unit, all holding dangerous items in their hands... Arthur couldn't see well enough to tell whether they were in fact guns or not... surely they wouldn't be as stupid as to bring guns into this? But then again maybe they were...

Somewhere towards his right Arthur heard an anguished cry. Someone was desperately trying to fight the current of the crowd and get to him... but without the intention of hurting him. Arthur frowned, not being able to figure out who it was, not that he would need any reinforcements. He had had faced worst before. This was a stroll in the park-

Arthur ducked and punched, reached out and landed near perfect roundhouse kicks, his cells still bathing in alcohol and protesting... for the moment he ignored his urge to leave the fight behind and just curl up and sleep... Mind, not that he would be able to sleep. He defended himself with his elbows, his arms and hit a few with his head. Never mind the further pounding it caused in his head. And when a stray punch found its home in his body, he didn't even wince. Alcohol made him a little numb it seemed.

Francis was livid, how dare these thugs try to attack _his_ Arthur, even if this Arthur didn't act like _his_ Arthur he was still in there somewhere. Plus hadn't he promised to keep Arthur safe? Then why did he seem frozen to the spot? And more importantly where had Arthur, _his_ Arthur learned to throw punches like that? Where had the little boy who cowered behind him gone? When had Arthur changed so much? How many things were there that he didn't know about Arthur, wouldn't find out about him?

All the thinking made his head hurt. He fought his way towards the bar, trying to beg Lovino into calling the police. To do something... he would have done it himself had there been phone signals down underground in a club like this. Lovino rolled his eyes and assured him that reinforcement was on its way.

Then Francis once again fought through the curious crowd to where Arthur was fighting so well that only 2 of the offenders remained. As he was about to dive in and help him out, Arthur retracted a hidden blade from its pouch and slit the throat of the man to his right. The crowd only did now become uneasy in fear. Francis briefly wondered why they did not otherwise bat an eyelash.

Seeming to be rooted to the spot as he watched Arthur stamp the skull of the other man into the floor, he tried not to throw up. Arthur finally straightened up, moving to a writing form that had landed face first. He spat on the man.

"That will teach you never to question my authority again, Fritz." And then with a sickening crack he broke the man's spine as if it was a mere twig.

Then the reinforcement in the form of Sadiq arrived. Looking at the scene before him with cold eyes. He walked towards Arthur who seemed to recognise him and slapped the English boy so hard that Francis for a second thought it would break his neck. But it had a strange effect on Arthur; now more of the amazing green was visible in his eyes and his shoulders slouched. And he looked at the floor at what remained of his opponents. And then his hand went to his mouth, tears welling up in his eyes as he was overwhelmed by his actions. Trying hold back in the vomit that threatened to come out of his mouth anytime now.

And then when he made sure that he wouldn't empty out the contents of his stomach, his eyes begun searching through the crowd. As if looking for something-some_one_.

And then green met blue as their eyes locked in a fierce embrace. Francis had no idea what emotion his eyes displayed, no idea what he looked like. No idea that on his features it was so easy to see the disgust, the betrayal, the hatred...

Finally the tears fell from Arthur's eyes.

As he saw the finality in the French boy's gaze, he knew that he was a monster. Francis' eyes said it clear enough. Clearer than any word could express. _Monster_.

Redemption was not for him. He couldn't ever redeem himself in the French boy's eyes. And that hurt more than when he ripped his soul apart every night as sleep refused to return to him.

Then Arthur knew that he couldn't go on living like that.

Without _Francis_.

**A/N**

**Sorry for the lateness of this... but... I wont give a half arsed excuse for myself. **

**DO review. There is more to come.**


	7. Chapter 7

Francis cast one last glance at Arthur's worn form. He didn't know what he was doing, allowing his instincts to get the better of him. His brain had gone into hibernation, allowing the emergency part run havoc.

Francis was torn. His mind had shattered painfully into sections. His heart was ripped apart-bleeding. He remembered the tears that fell down oh so prettily from Arthur's eyes, trying to _understand_ so desperately. He really did.

His heart had joined forces with a sympathetic part of his brain, making excuses for the green eyed boy's actions. Yet the other part of his mind, the part that just kept on whispering and whispering and goddamn _whispering_, accused Arthur, condemned him to a sentence that would not only ruin the image of _his_ Arthur but would also break his heart into pieces that could never be put together without some pieces getting lost in the process.

He couldn't afford to think when his own thoughts threatened to betray him. To betray Arthur. How could he ever _dare_ think of Arthur as anything other than perfect? How could he betray the one he loved? How could he go back on everything he believed and had faith in? He needed to leave.

To run.

So he did. There was no way he could remain another minute when his own thoughts told him that Arthur was a monster. _No_, he told himself firmly. Arthur is and angel. And it was true; Arthur stood in his black jeans and leather jacket, holding a bloody dagger in his left hand, his hair smeared with blood... he looked like an avenging angel. So righteous...

And the helplessness he saw in those moss green eyes? The despair? Yes, that's right... this was _his _Arthur. The same Arthur that had made him wash his face every single morning, forced him to do his homework when he neglected it, this was the 5 year old short and extremely slim boy that had made him promise not to fight... and the one that had patched him up after every single one when he failed to keep his promise. He was the lost little boy that cowered behind him when the bullies came to get him, the same one who would kiss his wounds so that they would heal faster.

This was _Arthur_.

The little toddler who Francis had befriended, the little boy who he had protected, the 10 year old who smiled him with a vibrancy that threatened to outdo the sun, the teen that he had fallen head over heels in love with.

Therefore, he had to live so he couldn't hurt the fragile boy with his involuntary actions any longer, he needed to get his priorities right and banish all bad thoughts he had of Arthur. Arthur couldn't have any faults... he was perfect. He had to be.

Francis' sanity depended on it.

A sob ripped through Arthur's chest as he saw Francis turn around and walk out of his life. Tears became puddles, puddles morphed into pools, the pools into lakes and the lakes into rivers that widened into the awaiting sea. Soon his legs gave out from below him. His strength leaving along with Francis.

"Come along, Arthur, we need to go now. Your brothers will be here any minute to clean out the club. You don't want to be here when they-"

"Let them come." Arthur said with a conviction that he didn't feel. "Let them come and end this."

It was their fault... all of his brothers' doing. Arthur had never wanted to be their weapon, never wanted to take over their fucking mob. Never wanted to kill, to murder, to take souls... He never wanted to become a monster.

"You know it will be Francis' head before yours." Sadiq warned. Arthur looked up with a pained expression. "Peter has told them everything."

Arthur's eyes hardened in an instant. "They will not touch Francis. They will not even get close. I'll kill them all."

Francis woke with a start. He had crashed on the sofa in one of the most uncomfortable positions ever. He waited for Arthur to return home last night so that he could tell hold him and tell him that everything was fine. Apologise for leaving...

Not to mention that he was terrified for Arthur. He was sure that at least 4 people had ended up dead last night. By Arthur's hand. What if the police was looking for him? What if someone in the club had ratted Arthur out? He had paced and paced until his legs would no longer carry him...

There had been a phone call early in the morning, Sadiq phoning to let him know that Arthur was doing well, that the police hadn't even found out about the incident let alone Arthur getting arrested.

Francis had had many questions... ones like "Who are Arthur's brothers?", "What do they do?", "Who were the men that had attacked Arthur?" but he held his mouth tightly shut, waiting Sadiq to finish his report and then to hang up when he was done. Those questions were best asked to Arthur himself. But Arthur hadn't come.

Guilt washed over Francis again... he had left Arthur alone when the shorter blond had needed him the most. He had failed Arthur yet again. He should have stayed, held Arthur close to his body, and promised to help Arthur kill anyone who ever dared touch him.

_Bang_.

Francis watched in sick fascination as an Arthur dressed in a cream sweatshirt and navy jeans kicked his door down. Arthur didn't even seem to mind the wood splinters that rained down into his hair. No, instead the shorter blond looked around until his eyes rested on him.

No trace of the tears were left behind now.

"Get ready, pack your stuff, you need to leave." Arthur said in a commanding voice, avoiding his eyes as if they were the plague.

"What-"

"No time to explain now. Your safety is on top of my agenda, I've endangered you enough. Now go to your room and pack up a few-"

"What about your clothes?"

"They will only weight us down at this moment."

"Then why must I-"

"Do as I say!" Arthur said in a voice that was downright cruel. Francis swallowed. You know that thing called survival instinct? Yeah, it was telling him to shut up and follow orders. Francis sighed and wondered if this would be how Arthur would act in bed... If so he needed to grow an S&M fetish sometime soon.

"How long do I have?"

"10 minutes maximum." Francis nodded and rushed to his room, picking up a few essentials, his limited edition Karma Sutra, a few items of clothing he found and some of the sexy underwear he was planning on surprising Arthur with. Oh, and the lube. You never knew when things might get a little steamy. _Wink._

Not that it seemed like Francis had the slightest chance with Arthur now. The small English boy had bared his soul to him with that innocent kiss last night and Francis had gone and betrayed it, torn it apart when he saw Arthur in action later on.

Francis vowed that he would _never _doubt Arthur again.

Arthur glanced at the time again... it had been nearly an hour opposed to the initial 10 minutes he had allowed Francis... what was the frog packing anyway? The furniture?

"Are you ready yet?" He asked in a carefully checked voice.

"In a minute." Came the reply.

"That's what you said the last 49 times." Arthur berated, getting up from his seat and moving towards the direction of Francis' voice. "What the hell are you doing in the-?"

Kitchen... that was where Francis was, trying to fit a _spatula_ of all things into his already overflowing suitcase. If the frog was trying to annoy the hell out of him, he was succeeding.

"Leave that thing alone!"

"No, you have to wait for the cupcakes to come out of the oven."

Arthur was flabberghasted. Cupcakes. _Cupcakes_! Bloody cupcakes were the only thing standing (or baking) between Francis and his safety.

"We. Must. Go."

"But you waited this long already, you can wait a while longer, _non_? Besides they have to get perfectly golden on the outside. Plus they'll be done any min-"

_Ding._

"-See? They're done already. We can eat them on the way to-"

Arthur wanted to head butt something. _This _was the guy he had fallen desperately in love with? The gods had a funny way of showing mercy.

"Arthur?" His head snapped up involuntarily to Francis' cerulean ones. He cast them down again, afraid of seeing the same look that had taken hold of them last night. He couldn't bear it if Francis still thought of him as a monster. "Arthur, there is a gash on your cheek, do you want a plaster?"

"No, we should get going."

"But the cupcakes need to cool down otherwise they will sweat."

"Leave the flipping cupcakes behind, we need to go."

"Did you bring a car?"

"No, why?"

"Well, how are we going to carry all these suitcases-"

Arthur's head snapped around the kitchen to find 4 extra large suitcases stationed on top of each other. He wanted to punch Francis, he really did. How could someone be so thick? So-so-

Arthur felt hands on his shoulders, spinning him around gently. He wanted to step back, to make him stop but he was also curious as to what Francis might do. He did nothing, just cast his eyes down and waited.

The soft hand moved to his hair, brushing off splinters and running fingers through the strands. Arthur tried not to moan when Francis begun messaging his scalp, but he couldn't help closing his eyes.

"Forgive me, _mon amour_, for leaving you there last night. I should have stayed, I should have kissed all your wounds better. I should have been there for you."

Francis places butterfly kisses all over Arthur's face, paying special attention to the bruise on his cheekbone and the gash just below his eye. Arthur remained in his hold like a statue. Never moving a muscle.

"You must show me how to throw one of those right hooks sometime. They might come in useful in a fight."

Arthur immediately tensed at his words and Francis cursed himself. That definitely had been the wrong this to say.

"No." Arthur said, opening his eyes and staring into Francis'-looking for the stray emotion that might deny his words. "Don't forgive me so easily. You don't know all that I have done. You can't fathom some of the things I've seen... the pain I've inflicted. You-"

"No, I don't Arthur, but I know _you_." He smirked slightly, how could I not when I have stalked you for so long? I know you have your reasons even thought I don't know what they are. But if there is ever someone who wants to kick your _petit_ arse, it's only natural that you want to fend them off. Hell, I would have helped you fight them..."

"Then why didn't you? Why did you run?" Arthur's words did not contain any of the anger that Francis thought they would... only hurt and pain.

"Because I was a coward. I wasn't strong enough."

"Liar."

"Because you were handling the situation quite well yourself."

"Lies."

"Because I didn't want to get hurt."

"Don't, lie Francis!"

"Because you weren't you! Because you changed so drastically before my eyes that I no longer recognised you. Because I was afraid that this new person you had become wouldn't recognise _me_!"

Arthur was crying again, his calm demeanour was no longer in existence. His hands flexed by his sides before he held them up in front of his face, both to hide from Francis and to give them something to do. And then his legs gave out but he was caught by Francis.

How very appropriate.

"How can you even bear to touch me after you've seen what I've done?"

"_Parce-que je t'aime_."

Arthur's heart came to a halt as he realised he must either be hearing things or that he had translated that sentence quite badly.

"I love you too much."

Arthur's heart threatened to burst in intense pleasure as Francis closed the gap between them, holding Arthur's injured body close to his.

But not close _enough_.

And then Francis moved his face down towards Arthur's, at which moment the door was knocked down the second time that day.

Francis groaned as Arthur quickly got into a fighting stance.

"I only thought people had such bad timings in movies. Plus, I didn't even get to wrap up the cupcakes, try not to get any blood on them _s'il vous plait_.

**A/N**

**Things are beginning to look brighter-or are they? **

**If you see any mistakes in that past few chapters, do excuse them since I no longer have a beta to correct them or the time to do it myself. Enjoy and comment! The more comments I get, the faster I upload the next chapter.**


	8. Chapter 8

Francis grabbed the nearest cooking utensil he could find; a wooden spoon, and flung it at the first guy that came through the now ruined door. The broad muscular man wasn't the only one who didn't approve of Francis' involvement in the fight. No, it was Arthur who shoved him behind his back, becoming his human shield.

And Francis hated every goddamn second of it.

He didn't like the fact that Arthur planned on taking the whole gang by himself. It was crazy. He was even at a physical disadvantage. What with being shorter and-

But _boy_ did he know how to move. He was so fast that Francis hoped he had a camera so that later on he could watch it in slow motion just to be able to see what Arthur was doing at certain seconds in time. Maybe he could even make an equation for it, like Shrodinger's wave equation.

And Francis noticed that he was right in assuming that Arthur would be much more efficient and graceful when sober. The way he moved... he could only just hope that Arthur deemed Francis important enough to show a fraction of his passionate enthusiasm in bed.

Before Francis could let his protests about only Arthur fighting, the fight was over, with Arthur the victor. It was incredible how he didn't even have a scratch on himself now. He turned to the French boy with vulnerability written in his eyes, plain for anyone who wished to read and abuse it.

"You are wonderful. _Brilliant_."

"You should pack the stupid muffins or whatever they are."

Five minutes later they were standing outside of the flat, waiting for Sadiq to arrive in his car, this week it was a black Ferrari convertible. Sadiq's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw the 5 extra large suitcases littering the pavement. With one look at Arthur (who just rolled his eyes) he picked them up one by one as if they weighted next to nothing and silently begun fitting them into the boot. He could only fit in two, so the other three had to go on the back seat, next to Francis.

Arthur took the front passenger seat, next to Sadiq and both them immediately clipped on their seat belts. But Sadiq had yet to start the car. After a 5 minute silent wait, Francis had had enough.

"What are we waiting for?"

Arthur turned around slightly. "Wear your seat belt."

"If we get pulled over it would be bad enough what with having a convicted criminal that the police have been searching for the past 2 years and an assassin that has been in their radar for the past 7 years. Not to mention that I am underage and this car is stolen and that I already had a warning from police before. I can't afford to have someone in the car who isn't wearing a seat belt too."

Francis' jaw must have dropped at some point during the mini-speech because he vaguely remembered trying to relocate it. When he gathered his wits about, he quickly clasped his seat belt and _finally_ Sadiq turned the key.

Two minutes into the ride, Sadiq slightly turned towards Arthur and asked, "Where to?"

"Werehouse 202."

"Are you sure?"

"It's the only one Liam doesn't know about."

"_Cupcakes anyone?_"

Sadiq ended up eating most of the cupcakes. Arthur refused to even lick the icing off Francis' fingers. It was waste of an effort all in all.

Not to mention a very very long car journey.

"How long until we get-"

"A while." Arthur said. "Make yourself comfortable."

2 minutes later.

"How long is a while?"

"We will be going to the Shoreham Airport in Brighton. Then we'll grab our fake IDs and Passports as well as our Credit Cards and take an aeroplane to Land's End. From there we'll take a skybus to Scilly Islands."

"But that's nowhere near France." Francis stated. "If you wanted to run off to an island why couldn't we go to Quessant? It's also in the Celtic sea."

"No. This is where we are going and that's it." Arthur sighed. "It's the safest place on Earth at this particular moment."

Francis was uncharacteristically silent for the rest of the journey. He didn't speak a word until they arrived in their designed destination some 10 hours later. Arthur felt guilty. How could he not? He would have preferred the endless questions instead of the silent treatment he was getting now.

But of course inside his mind, Francis was anything but silent. He was thinking of the consequences of his running away. He didn't think his parents would mind, but he needed to get a message to Gilbert and Antonio.

Well that had only taken about 5 minutes to resolve, the rest of the journey was spent on planning the awkward silences that awaited them and how best to avoid them.

Oh and the places they could have steamy sex in an island. Which happened to be a lot but Francis doubted that if Arthur was a fraction as horny as him, then they wouldn't be doing much travelling apart from to the loo to relieve their bladder.

And suddenly they were in front of a run down warehouse. Still Francis wouldn't say a word. Arthur wanted to shake that glazed look out of the taller blond's eyes but he was afraid that it would give Francis more reason to hate him.

And after all, who could blame Francis if he did hate Arthur.

Sure he had said he loved him but that was probably some random symptom of Stockholm syndrome seeing he had as good as kidnapped him and had taken him to an island near a place aptly named "Land's End"

What a honeymoon this was going to be.

He took out several keys from his pocket and begun unlocking the 7 sets of locks that he had insisted on having the shutter doors.

Inside was dusty and smelled old but he knew that the decor was modern enough... well at least there was electricity in there. Well, there was electricity in there when he first bought it.

The stairs were made of metal and made a clicky sound when you ran upstairs but they would still hold up for another decade at least. The only problem Arthur could think of was the fact that there was only one bed upstairs and little heating and no sofas and the kitchen sucked and he hoped that Francis wasn't allergic to dust and that the warehouse was right on the edge of a cliff and they would need the motorbike to travel into the centre of the-

"Please tell me you do have blankets in this place." Francis begged as he begun to shiver.

"Ummm... if you want to sleep then..."

"I am kind of hungry."

"I doubt you'd find anything to eat in-"

"That's why I packed everything. There should be some spaghetti in one of those suitcases and pans and cutlery in the other ones... Oh and lovely place by the way. We should clean it first thing tomorrow."

"Which suitcase did you say had the dusters?"

Dusters were in the third suitcase.

And Arthur didn't waste time whilst Francis took control of the kitchen. The water at first refused to come out of the rusty taps and when it finally did it was a murky brown colour and stunk like hell. But after waiting for it to clear up for nearly 15 minutes it was ready to be drunk.

Francis tried to light the cooker to no avail and finally screamed at it a few times and banged it around the space. To his credit it did work after the maltreatment it received.

30 minutes later both the spaghetti and the dusting were done. Francis noticed that Arthur looked absolutely exhausted and begun worrying for his health and when Arthur dozed off 10 minutes into his food, Francis also abandoned his mediocre-at-best meal and carried the English boy upstairs.

When he put Arthur on the rather dusty bed, Arthur opened his eyes.

"No... I... can sleep downstairs..." he murmured rubbing his eyes like a 3 year old toddler. Francis smiled at the gesture. Arthur was just so cute. He reminded him of unicorns... so pure and beautiful.

"I insist you sleep on the bed, I can sleep down-"

"No. Sleep with me?" He asked through slightly chattering teeth.

"Of course." Francis smiled brightly as if Christmas had arrived early. It probably had. He looked at Arthur's half-asleep form and thought of the ways he could ravish him in this state. But he couldn't, Arthur would surely karate kick him out of the bed the instant he tried. Instead, he unbuttoned Arthur's shirt, which made Arthur's cheeks colour a nice hue of red and then look of worry overcame his expression as he remembered the scars that littered his chest.

Francis was fascinated. He ghosted his fingers over a large fresh looking scar and smiled at Arthur. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore." Arthur said so quietly that he might have as well imagined it.

Then Francis ran his fingers over the dips of the muscles that adorned Arthur's stomach area. He was truly so so _so painfully _beautiful. Arthur blushed and looked away. Francis frowned.

"Don't be afraid, don't be embarrassed. You are just perfect the way you are."

Arthur shook his head, tears evident in his green eyes. Francis noticed his bandaged hands fisting themselves on the bed sheets. He cursed himself for getting aroused even at a time like this. He gulped his need down and tried to undo the button's of Arthur's jeans.

Arthur gasped when he felt Francis hand so impossibly close to _there_. The tears in his eyes turned to those of need and passion in a stray second and he cursed his body, hoping Francis would not notice the arousal that would erect itself any moment now.

But Francis did not notice. He was too busy being occupied by his own thoughts, trying not to think about the fact that he was undressing Arthur. That he would share a bed with _his Arthur_, that he would feel the wonderfulness that was Arthur so close to him. He groaned and commanded Arthur to lift his hips up.

Arthur numbly complied. Francis then nudged Arthur around so that he could get the blanket and the duvet over him, refusing to scare Arthur off by staring at his vulnerable form any more than necessary. He cursed the heavens... All he wanted to do now was to impale himself hard and deep into the wonder that was the shorter blond boy and make him come in his hand.

He felt dizzy. So intoxicated by the fact that _his_ little Arthur was allowing him such luxury.

And then, just as fast, the moment was gone and Francis was taking his clothes off, piling them on top of each other.

Arthur had retracted into his shell once again, he was lying on his side in a foetal position, tears leaking out of his brilliant green eyes. So close to the edge, just about to fall down from the bed.

Francis got in to the bed and pulled Arthur's back into his chest, tangling their legs, one hand snaking around the English boy's waist and rested his chin on top of Arthur's head. It felt just so right... as if Arthur was made for him.

He hoped, Arthur liked being cuddled because he had no intention of allowing the shorter boy to get away from him.

He had Arthur in his clutches now.

Arthur woke up from _the_ best sleep he had in his life. The fact that he had ever slept was a miracle. And the fact he hadn't woken up screaming credited to the fact that his dream must have been peaceful to some degree.

He kept his breathing even, not wanting to awaken Francis and slowly parted his eyes only to by assaulted by the heavenly image of his beloved. He must have turned around in his sleep during the night for now he was facing Francis, their bodies pressing against each other in a most intimate way, Francis' thigh resting in between his, Arthur nearly gasped when Francis moved so slightly that his thigh brushed against Arthur's morning erection. But even that stiffening of his thighs around Francis' was enough to wake up the French frog.

Francis had only few seconds to smirk before Arthur ran out of bed with the excuse of going out to town to get some food.

Typical.

**A/N**

**Do listen to "Forget it" by Breaking Benjamin.**

**Review please. :D**


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